1 - 20 of 64 Works by AngelBoy007
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The bells of Heaven didn’t ring for midnight. They never had. Lute knew this because she was sitting alone on a balcony of polished cloudstone, watching a sky that refused to change. No sunset. No countdown. No fireworks clawing color into the firmament. Heaven remained achingly, offensively eternal, perfect light stretched into infinity, untouched by the concept of ending.
That was the point, she supposed. Still. She held the glass tighter than necessary. The drink was Peter’s idea. A New Year’s celebration, he’d said, smiling too wide, trying too hard. The mortals do it. Thought it might be… grounding. Grounding. In Heaven. Lute almost laughed when she’d heard it.
『••✎••』
Heaven doesn’t celebrate New Year’s.
It doesn’t count down. It doesn’t change.
But this year, at Peter’s suggestion, they try.
Lute spends the night alone on a balcony overlooking Hell, the same night that once meant extermination. The same night Adam used to laugh and call a game.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 832
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 3
- Hits:
- 44
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Summary
Something was wrong.
He sat up.
A dull ache threaded through his back and shoulders, as if the mattress had not yielded properly beneath him. His skin felt too sensitive — each touch of the bedsheets a quiet assault. No internal fire of power, no lurking whispers of souls or sin. No darkness curled at his fingertips.
Sebastian stood, bare feet against the cold floor, and immediately felt the loss: his strength was gone. Where once he moved with inhuman fluidity, he now stood on trembling legs.
His eyes snapped to the mirror.
Gone were the faint crimson embers that used to glow in his irises. In their place: plain, human eyes. A rich brown, but unremarkable. His skin had a pallor to it, but no otherworldly sheen. He looked tired. Vulnerable.
Human.
***
One day, Sebastian wakes up to find himself human. Without his demonic abilities, how will he continue serving Ciel? More importantly, will he still want to?
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Adam knew something was wrong the moment the training courtyard went quiet. Not battle-ready quiet. Anticipatory quiet. He lowered his sword slowly. Across the marble expanse, four archangels stood in a very deliberate line. Radiant. Composed. Suspiciously smug. At the center was Michael, wings flared in regal gold. Beside him stood Gabriel, halo gleaming with barely-contained amusement. On the left, serene and observant, Raphael. And leaning ever so slightly toward Raphael, already grinning like this was the highlight of her millennium, Uriel.
Adam narrowed his eyes. “…Why are you all standing like that?”
Michael clasped his hands behind his back. “We have come to observe.”
“Observe what.”
Gabriel’s gaze slid past him. “To observe,” he repeated, “your teamwork.”
『••✎••』
Lute/Adam fluff collection of one-shots along with the other archangels teasing them.
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Fanfic request
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The fledgling had taken the tiny model of the Gluttony Ring and was chewing on it. Sera pressed her hands together. Only the slight twitch in her eye betrayed her fraying patience. “It’s quite alright. Please… just keep her from eating Gluttony.”
Across the table, Michael sat rigidly, wings bristling. “Why is it here?”
“She,” Azura corrected, panting as she pried the figurine from baby teeth. “And she didn’t want to be left alone.”
『••✎••』
During a high-ranking council meeting about Hell’s political instability, someone brings in a fledgling angel because no one could find a sitter. The baby keeps climbing onto the map of Hell, knocking over figurines, and calling Michael “Mom.”
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“Did she give a name?”
“Emily. No surname. And sir—she says she escaped from a private establishment. An entertainment club, for... nobles.”
Abberline’s stomach turned, though his face remained composed. He had heard whispers of such places—unmarked doors behind manicured townhouses, velvet-draped hells frequented by men whose titles insulated them from consequence. If the girl was telling the truth, then she had survived something most didn’t live to describe. “Where is she now?”
『••✎••』
In the underbelly of Victorian London, Inspector Fred Abberline uncovers a hidden network of trafficking and corruption stretching from back-alley clubs to the halls of nobility. When a traumatized survivor, Emily, escapes from the lavish den known as The Velvet Vein, Fred’s investigation draws him into a web of deceit where every truth has a price.
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He stepped into the shadows, eyes adjusting to the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. There—by a pile of toppled crates—sat something small, pale, and trembling. Angel blinked. “Uh… the hell?”
It was a child. No older than a toddler. Tiny feathered wings curled around their body. Each feather shimmered faintly, a soft, pearlescent glow that had no business existing in Hell’s grime. A halo, cracked and faint, hovered weakly above their downy hair. The kid hiccupped and peeked up, eyes wide and wet.
『••✎••』
When Angel Dust stumbles upon an abandoned fledgling angel crying in a Hellside alley, the last thing he expects is to become its reluctant caretaker.
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“That was one time,” Lute muttered.
Adam’s smirk was immediate. “She started it.”
“I finished it,” Lute shot back.
Gabriel’s smile was patient, indulgent. “Yes. You finish each other’s sentences, too. How efficient.”
They both went still. Lute’s wings twitched. Adam’s hand froze halfway to his cup. “Uh—” Adam started.
Gabriel sipped his tea. “So, when’s the wedding?”
『••✎••』
Gabriel invites them both for tea “to discuss patrol schedules.” Halfway through, Gabriel goes, “So when’s the wedding?” Adam chokes on his drink; Lute drops her teacup. Gabriel calmly continues sipping. “I’ll take that as ‘undecided.’”
『••✎••』
Completed as of 1/7/26
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Sebastian tilted his head, amused, but said nothing as Fred departed into the snow. The faint sound of the door shutting seemed to echo in the room long after he was gone.
Ciel sat still. The paper bag’s warmth radiated faintly against his fingertips when he reached for it. “…Sebastian,” he murmured after a long pause, “what would one do with these?”
“Why, eat them, my lord. They are quite popular among London’s common folk during winter.”
Ciel frowned faintly, as though that answer were too simple. “Hmph. I see.” He didn’t eat them. Hours passed. The candles guttered low, and the ink on his paperwork dried in uneven streaks. Sebastian cleared the desk, but Ciel stopped him with a quiet, “Leave it.”
『••✎••』
After a long investigation, Fred Abberline brings Ciel a small gift, a simple bag of warm roasted chestnuts from a street vendor. Ciel doesn’t know how to react to such a normal, heartfelt act of kindness… but keeps them, uneaten, on his desk until they go cold.
『••✎••』
Completed as of 12/20/25 - not edited
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Alastor pretended to sip tea he didn’t actually need. Husk rolled his eyes. Angel Dust sat upside down in an armchair for no clear reason. Vaggie stood near the edge of the light, arms crossed, but not angry. Just… uncertain. Charlie looked at her gently. “Vaggie… would you like to go next?”
Vaggie hesitated. Her good eye avoided everyone’s gaze. “Are you sure?”
Charlie nodded. “Only if you want to.”
Vaggie took a breath. “Fine. But once I say this, no one makes it a joke. Especially you,” she added, pointing sharply at Angel Dust.
Angel raised his hands. “What? I’m a saint.”
“Hardly,” Husk mumbled.
『••✎••』
I have this headcanon that Lute was created specifically to help Adam navigate Heaven when he first arrived and felt out of place. Adam and Lute became so close that Lute was the first exorcist on the team, and since they didn't have an army to base their designs on, Adam decided to base all the Angel Exorcists on her. My request is that Vaggie, in one of Charlie's truth exercises, explains to everyone why she looks a bit like Lute.
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Completed as of 11/6/25 - not edited
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Fic request
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The I.M.P. office was unusually quiet that morning, quiet enough that Moxxie dared to believe he might finally get through a stack of invoices without interruption. That hope died the moment the front door banged open and Blitzo swaggered in, twirling a pistol on his finger and wearing a grin that promised chaos. “Big payout today,” He announced, hopping onto the reception desk. “Easy solo gig. Which means you two lovebirds are on puppy duty.”
“Puppy duty?” Moxxie repeated. Before he could demand clarification, a black-and-silver blur zipped across the floor. A tiny hellhound pup no bigger than a coffee mug skidded to a stop between Moxxie’s legs, spiked tail wagging furiously. It let out a sharp, ear-piercing yip before bolting again, scattering papers in its wake.
『••✎••』
Moxxie and Millie must watch a hyperactive hellhound pup during an assassination mission.
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Completed and edited as of 12/29/25
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Summary
Gabriel ignored him entirely. “Behold!” He dramatically placed a stack of crisp, printed papers in the middle of the table and spread them. “Our newest celestial tradition. Lute and Adam Interaction Bingo.”
Lute blinked slowly. Adam visibly froze beside her. There was a palpable silence. Raphael reached forward first, curious. His eyes scanned the page. A slow, delighted grin formed. “Oh, this is excellent.”
The sheet was unmistakable: a full bingo board, each square featuring painfully specific situations. Adam stammers mid-sentence. Lute blushes then denies it. They insist it’s “purely professional.” One walks away in flustered silence. Lingering eye contact that lasts too long.
『••✎••』
Gabriel creates an entire bingo board of “Lute and Adam moments”
『••✎••』
Done as of 11/4/25 - not edited
Series
- Part 2 of The Celestial Betting Pool
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Summary
Emily pouted. “Please? Just a little? You’d look so pretty with a softer look! Oh, and maybe some blush! You’re always so serious—”
“It’s called discipline.”
Emily’s pout deepened, eyes wide.
Lute’s shoulders tensed. “Don’t do that. That face. Stop it.”
“...Please?” Emily whispered again.
Lute sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “Fine. One thing. No ribbons. No glitter. No—”
『••✎••』
Lute had been left watching Emily, to which Emily insists on making Lute 'pretty'. Lute protests against but relents once Emily pouts. Adam walks into the aftermath, clearly assumed much to Lute's threats to keep his laughter to himself
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Done as of 10/31/25 - not yet edited
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Her lips curved faintly. “The incident.”
Of course. That word again. Incident. He shifted on the couch, rubbing at the scar on his wrist from the IV drip. “I don’t remember anything new, if that’s what you’re asking. Still the same blank spot. Hospital, nurse, a bunch of questions I couldn’t answer. Then… here.”
Dr. Alden nodded. “You’ve mentioned the dreams. Are they still happening?”
Lukus hesitated. “Not as often. They’re… inconsistent.”
“Tell me about the last one.”
He stared at the ceiling, tracing the pattern of a water stain that looked almost like an eye. “I was standing in a field. The sky was gray. There was this… sound. Like wings? But not birds. Bigger. Then—” He stopped, brow furrowing. “Then I wake up.”
『••✎••』
Angela’s forced retreat wasn’t the end, it was a pause. Angela’s actions brought attention from higher, colder powers. They send another enforcer, an archangel who sees both Angela and Ciel as threats to divine order. Lukus, now lost in time, becomes an unwitting pawn in this celestial chessboard, and Ciel is forced to decide whether to protect him again, or sacrifice him to keep Hell’s balance intact.
『••✎••』
Part two to A Canvas Of Shadows
Series
- Part 2 of The Echo Effect
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 652
- Chapters:
- 1/?
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 48
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Summary
For a long moment, Michael said nothing. Then, to everyone’s shock, he reached into his armor and produced a single gold coin. “Ten celestials,” he said flatly, “on them realizing before the end of the week.”
Uriel stared. “...You’re joining the bet?”
“I’m observing morale,” Michael replied coolly, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that gave him away.
『••✎••』
Every time Lute and Adam sit together, the rest of the platoon quietly takes bets on how long it’ll take before they accidentally share food or finish each other’s sentences. Neither of them realize it’s happening… until Michael joins in on the betting.
『••✎••』
Done as of 10/27/25 - not yet edited
Series
- Part 1 of The Celestial Betting Pool
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Summary
Sera’s hand came down hard on the table, the sound echoing. “Focus!” The room went still. “Lute,” Sera said, pinning her with a look. “Repeat what I just said about unit rotation.”
Lute blinked. “Uh, alternate rotations between shifts to, uh, prevent burnout?”
“Incorrect. That was five minutes ago.”
Adam muttered, “We were in formation,” under his breath.
Sera’s wings flared. “What was that?”
He straightened. “I said understood, ma’am!”
『••✎••』
Sera’s trying to hold a strategy meeting, but every time she asks Lute and Adam to stop whispering or exchanging looks, they claim they’re discussing formation patterns. Uriel finally points out that formation patterns don’t usually involve giggling and shoulder nudges.
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Done as of 10/25/25 - not officially edited
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The air smelled of wet earth and pine. Near the path to the woods, a small glimmer pulsed behind the hedge. You knelt, pushing the branches aside. A Junimo.
Its round, moss-green body sagged. One leaf-tipped arm drooped, and a faint shimmer of golden light flickered erratically around it. When your eyes met, it let out a trembling tliiiing, almost like a plea.
『••✎••』
You find a injured Junimo in the rain
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Completed as of 9/29/25 not edited
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Summary
“Morning,” Lukus said, managing a small smile. “I heard the coop door creak. The hens are awake.”
Elliott opened one eye, smirking. “You really think I’m going to let you check on them today?”
“I can at least walk down there.”
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” Elliott reminded him, propping himself up on an elbow. “Doctor’s orders, remember? No lifting, no crouching, no pretending you can wrestle a chicken yet.”
Lukus huffed a short laugh. “You make it sound like I wrestle them every morning.”
“You might if they keep hiding eggs,” Elliott teased. “Seriously, stay put. I’ve got the watering and feeding covered.”
“I should at least help plan what we’re planting next week,” Lukus said, then winced as he tried to sit up straighter.
『••✎••』
Recovering from top surgery, farmer Lukus struggles with staying still while his husband Elliott tackles the morning chores on their farm.
『••✎••』
Officially completed and edited as of 9/28/25
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Summary
Ciel’s breath caught. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to contain the panic welling in his chest. None of this made sense. None of it was right. He turned abruptly toward Lukus, his voice sharp and low. “What year is it?”
Lukus blinked. “Dude, what?”
“The year,” Ciel snapped. “What year is it?”
“Uh… It’s 2023?” Lukus said slowly, concern creeping into his tone. “You seriously didn’t know that?” Ciel staggered back a half-step, his heart thudding in his ears. The number struck him—foreign, massive, impossible, over a century beyond what he knew. The reality settled over him. This wasn’t just another place. This was another time.
『••✎••』
Ciel Phantomhive, who awakens in the modern world, confused, injured, and severed from Sebastian, his demonic butler. He's taken in by a sarcastic but ultimately kind art student named Lukus, and as Ciel tries to make sense of the future, he uncovers that his entire past has been erased from history.
Series
- Part 1 of The Echo Effect
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The Redemption of Reginald Copperbottom by AngelBoy007
Fandoms: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
23 Aug 2025
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Summary
Months had passed since his betrayal at the hands of former allies, orchestrated by none other than Henry Stickmin. Reginald’s face twisted in anger as he remembered the smug look on Henry’s face as he walked away with the leadership of the clan. Betrayed, humiliated, and left for dead, Reginald barely survived the ensuing chaos. Now, the clan was fractured, its legacy in tatters, and Reginald’s name had become a cautionary tale whispered among the ranks.
But Reginald wasn’t done yet.
『••✎••』
After losing control of the Toppat Clan, Reginald Copperbottom goes on a personal quest to restore his honor. Teaming up with an unlikely ally, he uncovers a hidden plot to destroy the Toppats completely, forcing him to work alongside his enemies—including Henry—to protect the clan’s legacy.
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Summary
Alastor’s laughter bounced around the room, sharp and metallic. The club shuddered violently. The wooden floor rippled. The wallpaper peeled in jagged curls while the walls bowed inward, their plaster cracking with a wet, sinewy groan. Overhead, the single bulb flared blood-red, its filament sizzling before it exploded in a shower of sparks. The stage gave way beneath Riley’s feet. And just before everything went black, a voice followed him down. “Welcome to Hell, darling. Break a leg.”
『••✎••』
Alastor, the Radio Demon, decides to make a deal with an unexpected character from the mortal world—a young, struggling musician who accidentally summons him while performing a song about selling their soul for fame. Intrigued by their audacity and talent, Alastor offers them a chance to perform in Hell for a night. However, once they arrive, they realize that getting back to the mortal realm might not be so easy. Can they outwit the Radio Demon and make it back, or will they end up becoming the newest permanent guest of the Hazbin Hotel?
『••✎••』
Officially edited and completed as of 9/27/25